


The King and I

by northernstarnavigator



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Birthday, Orchestra, reisi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 18:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16164023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernstarnavigator/pseuds/northernstarnavigator
Summary: “Suoh Mikoto is waiting for you outside.”Munakata raises his eyes from the report to look at his third, takes in the slight furrow in the younger’s brow and the displeased turn of his mouth, and laces his fingers together. “What makes you say that, Fushimi-kun?”“He put an effort into looking less like a delinquent for once.”





	The King and I

“Suoh Mikoto, as the leader of Scepter 4, I order you to stand down.”

Suoh turns on his heel and flashes him a smile so condescending before he releases a wind of flame, Munakata wonders why he even bothers telling the man what to do anymore. “You tryin’ to be funny, Munakata?”

”Quite the contrary,” Munakata retorts as he fends off the attacking by slashing through it with his saber. “There is nothing funny to be found in this situation.”

’This situation’ being yet another one of the famous Red-Blue clashes on the lobby floor of some technological firm, and being yet another factor to Munakata’s headache that’s been growing the entire day. Clansmen from both HOMRA and Scepter 4 clash in Munakata’s peripheral, and he’s dimly thankful he had the foresight to keep Fushimi in the vans. He’s not so thankful that he always has to be called whenever Suoh does something incredibly stupid...

... such as wrecking the entire first floor of said technological firm. Granted it belongs to a man who lusts after money, but that man is also the high-ranking member of the free market, and it is that reason that makes Munakata shake his head in annoyance. “Honestly, Suoh, you are too old to be throwing temper tantrums, do you not agree?”

”Not a temper tantrum,” comes the low drawl that is just so infuriating to Munakata. _I cannot stand this man_. “You think that badly of me?”

”Because you have given me no reason to think otherwise, yes.”

Suoh’s grin reaches past the barrier of his aura’s barrier, tearing through it as if it’s nonexistent. “Bad day, huh?”

That just about does it: Munakata’s tired, his headache’s increased from the strain of activating his sanctum, and he has had to deal with too many idiots this past week, namely the one standing in front of him, and he plans to lock himself inside his office for a good hour or so until his frayed nerves settle down from the hectic rush of this past week. So he doesn’t bother answering Suoh, but he dodges his next attack and launches himself at the Red King, arcing his sword in the air so that a curve of ice-blue drops to counter Suoh’s flame.

Only it doesn’t go as expected, mainly because he swings his sword down too hard. The momentum that the motion generates doesn’t so much except make him stumble. His body instinctually twists to break his fall, but then Suoh’s hand is holding his sword arm, which doesn’t make him do much except fall into Suoh’s other arm so that he’s staring up at the Red King. It registers somewhere in the back of Munakata’s mind that Suoh’s just saved him from quite possibly impaling himself on his sword, but every thought that follows flies out the window as Suoh leans closer to him, with an expression that might count as concern on his face. “The hell you doing fighting in your condition?”

”I am fine, Suoh. Release me.” Right now, he forgets to add, because the back of Suoh’s hand is on his forehead. “Suoh-”

”This is the problem with all you Blues, is that you’re stubborn. You’re not fine, Munakata.”

”I believe I know the state of my health better than-”

”Shut up.”

Munakata blinks in surprise as Suoh releases him, straightens his coat lapels, and stuffs his hands into his pockets before walking away. “Izumo.”

HOMRA’s second looks between him and his King before he chuckles. “Alright, Mikoto. Let’s head back to the bar, boys.”

Collective groans rise from the Red clansmen scattered at various points in the room, most notably Yatagarasu’s. “Kusanagi-san, what-”

”Let’s go; Anna’s waiting.” Kusanagi waits until every Red clansmen trudges past him before giving Munakata a knowing look. His brow furrows in confusion- he doesn’t know what that means, what does it mean?- but he restrains himself to a nod, one that Kusanagi returns before disappearing with his clan.

Awashima joins him as he watches HOMRA leave. “Sir, do you think there is a reason for their abrupt departure?”

”Suoh Mikoto and his clan are unpredictable people,” he says, though the words feel far away and not his own. “It would make sense if their actions are as well.”

The imprint of Suoh’s hand on his wrist burns.

 

He’s a fool to think that would be the end of the matter.

He’s also in the middle of a desk report when Fushimi knocks once and enters to share a piece of news that clarifies the fact that it is not the end of the matter.

“Suoh Mikoto is waiting for you outside.”

Munakata raises his eyes from the report to look at his third, takes in the slight furrow in the younger’s brow and the displeased turn of his mouth, and laces his fingers together. “What makes you say that, Fushimi-kun?”

“He put an effort into looking less like a delinquent for once.”

Munakata’s startled enough to actually go on his computer and check the cams; Suoh is indeed there, wearing a dark plaid shirt and black slacks in place of his usual attire, and he’s smirking into the camera like he just knew Munakata would be looking. The very sight sends all sorts of emotions tumbling in his stomach- mostly mortification at being read so well- so he shuts the computer off and closes the lid. “Well, that hardly means he is here to see anyone, let alone me.”

Fushimi stays silent for several heartbeats, regarding him with a look that can only qualify as blatant disbelief before the youth huffs and crosses his arms as he leans against the doorway. “Whatever. Maybe you should meet him before he burns down HQ.”

It’s unlikely that Suoh of all people would actually make the effort to burn down Tsubaki-mon, mostly because doing anything that requires effort repels Suoh like water and oil, but Fushimi has a point; Suoh can be frighteningly patient when he wants to be, and at this rate Munakata doesn’t doubt that he’ll wait all night for Munakata to walk out.

So for the sake of his clan and for sparing them the expense of Suoh’s obstinacy, he dismisses Fushimi and exchanges his uniform for a tan turtleneck under a navy blue coat and black slacks. He doesn’t really know why he bothers changing, but something about the way Suoh’s acting tells him that he’s not returning to his office anytime soon.

He’s proven right when he walks out by the way Suoh turns, takes one look at him, and raises an eyebrow. “You’re pretty perceptive for a sick person.”

“You are mistaken; I am not ill, I merely have a headache,” Munakata counters, crossing his arms. “What business do you have here?”

”I’m taking you out.”

Four- technically five- words that should not affect Munakata as much as they do. As it is, the only eloquent response he can say is, “I beg your pardon?”

”I’m taking you out,” Suoh repeats slowly.

”Absolutely not.”

”S’there a problem?”

”Is there a- Suoh Mikoto, you seem to forget that I am a very busy man.”

“Munakata Reisi,” Suoh responds, mocking him, “you seem to forget what date it is.”

”That is irrelevant, you are missing the point,” Munakata trails off as it suddenly hits him. His clansmen whispering. Awashima offering to take the brunt of his paperwork. Fushimi making an effort to be nice. “Ah.”

Suoh doesn’t do more than chuckle as he brings one hand from behind his back and holds it out to him. “Happy birthday.”

Munakata stares at the peach blossom, suddenly remembering everything he’s heard about hanakotoba from his parents, from Taishi, from the bits he hears from his subordinates sometimes, and it’s all he can do to ignore the implications of the flower as he takes it with a grip that is less steady that he would like it to be and tucks it into his breast pocket. “I wasn’t aware you studied the language of flowers, Suoh.”

”Shaddup, it’s a once in a lifetime thing.” Evidently Suoh’s grown bored of standing in front of Scepter 4 because in the next instant, he’s stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Munakata’s shoulders, propelling them into a walk that leads away from Tsubaki-mon.

As for Munakata himself, he’s forgotten how strange it feels to be out in public without his uniform or his saber; since he can’t physically remove Suoh without something to channel his power into, he does the next best thing and he stares at Suoh with an eyebrow raised.

Suoh only shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d want me holding your hand yet.”

Yet. That implies that there will be a next time. Munakata dips his head slightly so that his hair obscures Suoh’s view of his face and allows himself to lean into Suoh’s arm- for balance, of course, since it would not do to have an uneven pace in a position like this. “Do you have a destination in mind, or are we to spend the evening walking around in circles?”

”How d’ya feel about orchestra?”

”I have not heard one in years,” Munakata admits. He had been fascinated with classical music as a child; he remembers touching the school piano for the first time, remembers the first time he’d played the twenty-third opus of Chopin’s Ballade No. 1 in G minor in front of an audience. After he awakened as King, he had had less time to appreciate the complex nature of classical music in light of all his duties, but the fascination had never truly died away. “Does this mean...?”

Suoh hums in acknowledgement, his arm around Munakata pulling a little tighter to steer him away from the middle of the road. “Izumo came up with that one. Said you looked like someone who likes that classical stuff.”

”Do you?”

”Dunno. Didn’t listen to a lot of music until Totsuka came along.”

Their conversation comes to a pause, as it always does at the mention of Totsuka Tatara. Suoh’s arm around his shoulder suddenly feels foreign, his silence just a tad sadder, and Munakata makes to dislodge himself from under Suoh’s arm, folding his arms across his abdomen. “Forgive me. I realize it’s been hard.”

”Yeah, well. S’what happens when someone important to you dies.”

Suoh doesn’t make any move to initiate contact again, and Munakata doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed.

However, the moment they reach the concert hall, most of the guilt he feels at bringing up Totsuka dissipates into wonder. This hall is quite huge; Munakata guesses that it can fit three to four thousand people, going by the four levels of seating that catch his eye when they first walk in. He can’t see much of the stage because of the red velvet curtain draped over it, but he’s willing to believe that the orchestra pit is only slightly smaller than the stage itself.

Suoh chuckles from beside him, and he turns to find the Red King watching him with amusement. “You looked like a little kid there for a second.”

”I hardly am to blame when I haven’t set foot inside a concert hall in ten years.” That’s all the response Munakata feels satisfied giving; it’s too hard to face Suoh directly when the man continues to wear that absurdly fond expression.

“Then you’re gonna have a fun night,” is all Suoh bothers to say before he’s lumbering away, leaving Munakata with no choice but to mumble his apologies to the woman he’s accidentally jostled and dart after his companion for the evening. He joins Suoh right as the lights dim; the red velvet curtain rises with the dwindling murmurs of the crowd to reveal a full blown orchestra.

”Getting those orchestra memories yet?”

Munakata almost, almost jumps because he did not expect Suoh’s voice to appear out of nowhere- and right next to his ear, no less- but he doesn’t because he can just hear the smile in Suoh’s voice like that’s exactly what he wants to happen. So he huffs and tilts his head back until he can whisper to the Red King at a reasonable tone. “It will take more than just seeing the orchestra, Suoh.”

The little smirk Suoh makes is not quite enough to make Munakata forget about the conductor’s arrival onstage, but it’s close. So Munakata looks back to the stage. He doesn’t feel Suoh’s arm resting across his shoulders until the man shifts at the same times that the conductor raises his baton, and the opening notes of Elgar’s Cello Concerto Op. 85, Adagio- Moderato ensue just as Munakata turns to look at Suoh in surprise.

Naturally the man doesn’t look back at him, but a small smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he continues watching the orchestra.

Munakata refrains from rolling his eyes, but he can’t quite stave off the warmth in his cheeks as he lets himself- minutely- relax within Suoh’s half-embrace. 

It may be the fact that Munakata hasn’t been to a concert in years, but this particular ensemble has surpassed his expectations. Every bow in the strings section rises and falls in sync with each other, the intonation is clear enough even from where he sits with Suoh, near the back of the middle section of the house, and he can tell apart every dynamic in the concerto. The acoustics in this particular hall are nothing short of amazing, and Munakata makes a mental note to thank Suoh when this is over. 

Then he feels it- the slow motion of something curling over his hand that both warms him and sends shivers down his spine.

Munakata doesn’t dare breathe, half fearful that this moment will shatter if he does, and glances at Suoh; the Red King’s looking at him, a smile on his face that’s softer than any other expression Munakata has ever seen on him. Suoh’s thumb draws circles on the back of his hand as if reassuring him- of what, Munakata doesn’t know. Still, he offers Suoh a hesitant smile before turning his attention back to the concerto as if that will help him focus.

As if that will collect the bits of his attention still rooted firmly in the warmth that his hand being entwined with Suoh’s brings.

As if that will slow down the staccato tempo his heart has been beating to since this whole evening began. 

As the concert goes on, the peach blossom in his pocket gets heavier and heavier until it’s a weight that he can no longer ignore. 

 

 

They’re both quiet on the way back to Tsubaki-mon, with their hands still connected like their lives depend on it. Suoh had adamantly insisted to accompany him back to Scepter 4; Munakata had agreed, but that may or may not have been one of his worst choices.

For one, his subordinates would surely throw a fit if they saw the Red King, HOMRA’s leader, coming back with the Blue King holding hands- especially Fushimi. For another, he’s still not sure what the butterflies in his stomach signify and why they always seem to appear along with Suoh’s presence. 

“Suoh,” he tries.

No answer.

”... Suoh?”

”Hm?”

”We’ve arrived.”

”Ah.”

Technically they haven’t really arrived yet; they’re at the gate, but this is as far as Munakata wants Suoh to come. This is as far as it’s _safe_ for Suoh to come. 

So he turns to face the Red King, willing the politician’s smile to reappear and signify the end of the casual evening. “Thank you for taking me to the orchestra, Suoh.”

”Thanks for not bein’ a prick about it.”

Munakata’s smile falters a little in confusion. “Pardon?”

”You didn’t do that whole fake smiling thing while we were there. I like you better that way.”

Munakata doesn’t remember when they had gotten so close together, but Suoh’s face is currently about five inches away from his- which means he can see the sliver of gold in the amber eyes that he’s always been so curious about. 

“... Is that so?” he manages when it becomes clear that Suoh didn’t intend it as an open ended statement.

Suoh hums in agreement before catching Munakata’s other hand- this man has a thing about physical contact apparently, but Munakata gets no more than two seconds to realize it before he’s been gently tugged forward.

Suoh’s lips press against his cheek lightly, and it lights every fiber of Munakata’s body on fire. “Happy birthday, Reisi.”

If possible, the feeling of Suoh’s lips against his cheek burns hotter on Munakata’s cheek as he stares at Suoh’s back, torn between astonishment and disappointment. Then before he knows it, he’s taken a step forward. “Suoh!”

Suoh turns around, no mild amount of surprise on his face. “What?”

”I...” Munakata coughs and pushes up his glasses. “I wouldn’t mind... doing this type of thing again, sometime. With you.”

 _Oh, how the mighty have fallen_. Fushimi’s tone pushes its way into Munakata’s mind with that thought, and he lingers on it for a moment longer than he should before wrapping his arms around himself and making himself wait for Suoh’s answer.

Suoh’s face is as impassive as it’s ever been- only for a moment. Then a smile that’s as bright as HOMRA’s flame curls his lips and he chuckles, turning away. “M’gonna need to find another excuse to take you out again, huh?”

Munakata doesn’t deign that with a reply, only sending a responding scoff over his shoulder as he heads into Scepter 4, only to be greeted by a still awake, half mortified, half disgusted Fushimi. “... Fushimi-kun?”

Fushimi stares at him for another second with an odd combination of shock and disbelief before rolling his eyes, uncrossing his arms, and heading inside. “Get inside before I change my mind about erasing the cameras.”

Munakata just laughs as he does as he’s told, and he makes sure to shut the door behind him before following Fushimi. _Suoh, I’ll be waiting_.

**Author's Note:**

> Peach blossom: I admire you.


End file.
